


this and that

by angelic_angel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelic_angel/pseuds/angelic_angel
Summary: This was not good. At all. In the slightest. Not even the tiniest bit.This, referring to Donghyuck’s realisation that he would not be opposed to kissing his flatmate. In fact, scratch that. This, referring to his realisation that he would very much like to date his flatmate.This all began several years before Donghyuck realised it had, and that’s what made it so much worse when he did.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 14
Kudos: 254





	this and that

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i wrote this in a few hours after i had the idea for the story - i hope it's not too rushed and that you enjoy reading!  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated :)

This was not good. At all. In the slightest. Not even the tiniest bit.

 _This_ , referring to Donghyuck’s realisation that he would not be opposed to kissing his flatmate. In fact, scratch that. _This_ , referring to his realisation that he would very much like to date his flatmate.

 _This_ all began several years before Donghyuck realised it had, and that’s what made it so much worse when he did.

It was his first year at university, and Donghyuck had decided that staying in on-campus accommodation would be much more preferable to a several hour daily commute. As far as he knew, he would be sharing with four other boys, but not much else.

On move in day, he arrived a little before his allotted time, his mother having left earlier than they needed so he would get first choice on cabinet space in the kitchen. It was perhaps the one time Donghyuck had been grateful for his mother’s psychotic time keeping, he thought, as he stacked plates into a cushy sized cupboard, while his mother began stocking one of the shelves in the empty fridge, the result of them being the first to arrive.

It had been a struggle to find the flat at first, both Donghyuck and his mother winding down hallways and through corridors all the while carrying several boxes of his belongings. Donghyuck had groaned both in relief and frustration when they finally found his flat, realising they had walked past it multiple times in their frantic, but clearly not thorough search.

His bedroom was slightly less impressive than the website and open day accommodation tour had made it out to be, but he couldn’t find it in himself to complain as he pinned up posters in _his_ room, in _his_ flat.

Just as Donghyuck was stacking the bookshelf above his desk, he heard the door to the flat open followed by a number of voices speaking in hurried Mandarin, the loud chattering carrying into his room through its open door. His mother had disappeared back to her car to retrieve the last of his clothes, so Donghyuck would have to face his new flatmate alone.

Nervously, he placed down the book he was holding and made his way out of his room, into the hallway. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him: a middle-aged man and woman (presumably the parents) stood outside the room neighbouring Donghyuck’s, scolding who Donghyuck presumed to be their sons, one of whom was considerably taller than the other. It was a bit of a humorous scene, especially since one of the sons was considerably taller than both of his parents. Donghyuck didn’t really know what to do, not wanting to interrupt what looked to be the lecture of a lifetime, so he stood silently just outside his door, waiting for someone to notice him.

Then, another figure appeared, not quite as tall as his brother(?) but nowhere near as small as the youngest. Immediately, his eyes flew to where Donghyuck was stood frozen in the hallway, completely overwhelmed by the amount of people crowded in such a small space.

“Hi,” the boy said, snaking through his family to stand in front of Donghyuck. “I’m Renjun! Sorry about all of them, they all insisted on coming with me.”

Donghyuck laughed at the irritated way Renjun gestured to his family, although his eye roll was a little too fond. They had all stopped their arguing and instead waved happily in Donghyuck’s direction. He felt himself smiling at the bright grin on the youngest boy’s face.

“Not at all,” Donghyuck assured, his nerves slowly dissipating under Renjun’s friendly smile. “My mum can be just as bad and there’s only one of her. I’m Donghyuck, by the way.”

And that was how Donghyuck met Renjun. It was also how Donghyuck met Renjun’s mother, father, older brother Sicheng and much younger brother Chenle, all of whom took an instant liking to Donghyuck when the younger greeted them in broken Mandarin. When his mother returned, the two families decided to go for lunch together, pushing a few tables together in the on-campus café, much to the chagrin of everyone else there.

It was a nice lunch and probably the best way Donghyuck’s university career could have started. It wasn’t every day that you became best friends with someone only hours after meeting.

(Years later, Donghyuck almost wished that he had fallen for Renjun instead. It would have made more sense to himself and everyone else if he had.)

The second and third of Donghyuck’s flatmates had arrived during lunch, and upon their return, he and Renjun finally got to meet who they would later refer to as the Terrible Two: Jeno and Jaemin. Donghyuck’s initial thought upon meeting them was that they were both incredibly handsome, but it didn’t take more than a matter of hours for that illusion to shatter as they all decided to watch a movie together later that night, only for Jaemin and Jeno to speak through most of it. Donghyuck would be a hypocrite if he said he didn’t do the same, but no one, not even Donghyuck, could reach the volume of Jeno’s invalid criticisms and Jaemin’s even more invalid commentary.

Jeno’s exclamation of “But there aren’t enough people in the school to fill the quidditch stands!” as they watched The Half-Blood Prince, was soon followed by Jaemin’s “Harry literally has more chemistry with Dobby the elf than Ginny”, both of which made Renjun shuffle angrily on the squeaky leather couch, spilling some of his drink on Donghyuck’s blanket in the process.

It wasn’t until they switched off Renjun’s laptop and began to get ready for bed that they realised they were one flatmate short.

(Sometimes, when things got worse, Donghyuck wished he had clung onto his initial attraction to Jeno and Jaemin. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have gotten into such a mess.)

Donghyuck was lounging on the springy sofa, his face lit up by the blue light coming from the television that murmured lowly in the background as he scrolled through his phone. Renjun was out for drinks with one of the many societies he was a member of (Donghyuck thought that this week’s was the one that spoke about aliens and lizard people and other things Donghyuck didn’t believe in), while Mark was on his way back from practice with the tennis society. He was in his third year and Donghyuck had yet to find a society he actually enjoyed, so here he was, scrolling mindlessly through Twitter while an old rerun of Glee played in the background.

A few moments later the door to the flat swung open to reveal a suitably sweaty Mark, clad in equally as sweaty sports gear and carrying a bag from their favourite Japanese restaurant.

“I got miso soup and sushi!” he called as he walked to the kitchen, leaving a dry mouthed Donghyuck to gawp at him from the couch. It wasn’t just because Mark looked unnaturally good after a good round of tennis that had Donghyuck staring (although that definitely played a part), but the fact that Mark had gone out of his way to get them dinner. Earlier that afternoon, Donghyuck had texted their group chat during his English Lit lecture, complaining about his sudden craving for Japanese food. He hadn’t expected anyone to take it seriously despite the spur of agreeing replies from Jaemin, Jeno and even Mark himself. He hadn’t expected Mark to stop on his way back from a two-hour tennis practice just to get the food that Donghyuck had been whining about that very day.

Donghyuck felt his heart flutter when Mark reappeared from the kitchen, a pleased grin on his tired face.

“I got your favourites,” he smiled, toeing off his shoes.

“Salmon and avocado maki?” Donghyuck asked hopefully from where he was stilled curled up on the couch, paying little attention to the phone clutched in his hand.

“Obviously,” Mark laughed, throwing his sweaty zipper at Donghyuck’s face. “Unless you’ve suddenly got a new favourite that I didn’t know about.”

“Never,” Donghyuck spluttered, grimacing as he threw the disgusting piece of fabric back at Mark.

“I’m just gonna go shower first and then we can eat,” the elder said as he strode in the direction of the bathroom.

“Hurry up, you need one,” Donghyuck teased, giggling when Mark threw him the middle finger before slamming the bathroom door shut.

_This_ all began on the second day of Donghyuck’s life in student accommodation, with the entry of his fourth and final flatmate: Mark Lee.

Mark Lee was from Canada, a year older than the other four and had arrived a day late because his parents had cried so much that he had decided to stay with them an extra day out of guilt. Well, that’s what Mark told the rest of them once his parents had finally left. The suspicious redness in his eyes left Donghyuck wondering if Mark’s story was entirely true.

At first glance, there was nothing particularly special about him. He was quietly handsome, with round eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a small mouth, not quite on the same level as Jaemin’s pretty face or Jeno’s muscular body, but still typically attractive. He stumbled a little when he spoke, nervous to have the attention of four strangers focused solely on him, and he was little awkward with his greetings, but overall Donghyuck thought he was nice.

(Years later, Donghyuck would wonder what had changed in the way he saw Mark.)

Donghyuck really grew to like Mark the very next weekend when the five flatmates, along with their neighbours Yukhei and Jungwoo, decided to go out clubbing after their first week at university.

Donghyuck had first met Yukhei and Jungwoo the day Mark had moved in, all seven boys meeting by accident at the induction fayre. Donghyuck, Renjun and Mark had been mulling about the stalls, browsing the societies available before Jeno and Jaemin had dragged them away to look at another stall that was selling posters of half-naked men. Donghyuck decided that university had definitely been the right choice for him as he eyed a shirtless Zac Efron gazing back at him from where he was pinned to a wall. It was at that very moment that a loud crash sounded from just behind them, drawing the attention of their small group as well as every other student in the vicinity. Two tall guys stood frozen as they gazed down at a collapsed board, topless Chris Hemsworth smouldering up at them from the floor. It had taken only a moment of stunned silence before all seven boys were in peals of laughter, futilely attempting to help reconstruct the display whilst an angry looking girl huffed from her place at the cash desk. By the time he reached their flat, Donghyuck had befriended their neighbours and their group had increased in size.

Now, the seven boys were all stood in a snaking line outside one of the clubs nearest campus. It seemed that everyone else had had the same idea, drinking away the stresses of life as newly crowned university students if the length of the queue was anything to go by. They had been waiting for about twenty minutes and Donghyuck could feel the vodka he had drunk earlier beginning to wear off. If he didn’t want to end up sober before they even got into the club, he needed the line to move just a little faster.

In front of him stood a visibly much more intoxicated Jeno who was chatting amicably with the group of girls that were just in front of him, hanging off of Renjun’s shoulder despite the elder’s shorter stature. Donghyuck found himself laughing softly at the way the girls hung onto each and every one of Jeno’s slurred words, mesmerised by his sweet smile and sculpted face.

Behind Donghyuck stood the rest of their group. Yukhei and Jungwoo seemed to be challenging Jaemin to a strange dance-off, but Donghyuck could never be sure. Then, there was Mark. Unsurprisingly, the elder had been silent for most of the night, even through the mess of pre drinks at their flat. It didn’t take long for Donghyuck to realise that Mark wasn’t much of a drinker, watching as he nursed a single beer whilst the rest of them were mixing drinks that were probably closer to disinfectant in alcohol content than anything drinkable. Donghyuck’s suspicions had also been confirmed by Mark’s announcement that he “likes being able to control his actions”, that sounded a little more condescending than Mark had probably meant, but everyone was too drunk by that point to care. It was at moments like this that Donghyuck thought he should’ve forced one of Jaemin’s horrible concoctions down Mark’s throat, cringing at how awkwardly the elder boy stood in line, at how obviously sober he was.

“I heard the music is really good in here,” Donghyuck ground out in an attempt at conversation. His face softened at the look of surprise on Mark’s face, like hadn’t expected anyone to even remember he was there never mind talk to him.

“That’s good,” Mark replied, seeming to grow more chipper yet still looking painfully uncomfortable. “I’d be very disappointed if it wasn’t, what with it being a club and all.”

Donghyuck found himself smiling at the comment. “Tell me about it. There was this one time I went to a club – the only time other than right now – and they played Cotton Eyed Joe three times in the space of two hours. Two hours. There’s only so many times you can wonder where Joe went before you start to go stir crazy.”

“Well, they do say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result every time,” Mark laughed, clearly amused by Donghyuck’s tragic tale. Donghyuck found himself laughing along, realising that this was the first time he had seen Mark laugh out of pure amusement rather than nerves.

They chatted some more about their taste in music and terrible concert experiences before finally, finally, they were allowed entry into the club. The way that Mark held out his arm in front of him, inspecting the entry stamp in awe, was honestly rather endearing, and it was the last thing Donghyuck remembered for the rest of the night.

He awoke the next morning with a sour stomach, the vaguest memory of throwing up in the toilets after making out with a random girl, and the even vaguer and much more surprising memory of Mark pushing a different girl (or was it the same girl? Donghyuck had no idea) up against the wall of the dancefloor.

It didn’t take long for the truth to come out.

Upon entering the kitchen, Donghyuck found Jeno and Jaemin slumped against the dining table looking rather sorry for himself, hoods up and glasses of orange juice in hand. Renjun was throwing up his vital organs, if the retching sounds coming from the toilet were anything to go by, and Mark was buttering toast, looking just like he did every other morning.

“What the fuck happened last night,” Donghyuck groaned as he slipped into the seat next to a slowly dying Jeno. A glass of orange juice suddenly appeared in front of him, silently placed on the table by an obviously amused Mark, who proceeded to take the seat next to Jaemin. Donghyuck smiled gratefully before taking a large gulp.

“Fuck knows,” Jaemin replied, taking a sip of his juice despite the fact he looked like he wanted to vomit. “Last thing I remember was Yukhei buying celebratory shots for… god knows what reason.”

“I can’t even remember that far,” Donghyuck sighed, wincing as his stomach swirled uncomfortably.

“I think it was to celebrate Mark losing his virginity,” Renjun interjected as he exited the toilet, his voice drowning out the rumble of the toilet flushing. Everyone in the room immediately turned to face a furiously blushing Mark who, despite looking a smidge bashful, didn’t look entirely embarrassed.

“That is not true,” he argued, an amused smirk tugging at his mouth. “The shots and me having sex were two completely unrelated events.”

If someone else had walked into the room at that very moment, they would have immediately burst out laughing. Four out of the five boys’ jaws were on the floor, wide eyes trained on Mark with a mixture of admiration, shock and amusement. After a pregnant pause, the room erupted into chaos.

Renjun started cackling loudly while Donghyuck started screeching, declaring that he didn’t need to know the details of Mark’s private life. Jeno still looked to be on the verge of death, probably unable to say anything lest he regurgitate the last three sips of orange juice, and Jaemin looked offended by the whole affair.

“I can’t believe it! Mark has more game than me? How? In what world? No offense, Mark.”

Mark looked slightly affronted but nodded all the same.

“Jaemin, you made out with like five people last night,” Renjun pointed out confusedly.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have done it sober,” Jaemin explained, eyeing Mark with a mixture of jealousy and awe. “Who do you think I am?”

“Not Mark Lee, clearly,” Jeno commented under his breath, causing everyone else to burst out into laughter, even Jaemin.

(Sometimes, Donghyuck would wonder if this was when it all started – the way Mark was so unexpectedly bold. Donghyuck would wonder what it would’ve been like if he knew earlier.)

_This_ , his attraction to Mark was a fairly new development. Well, Donghyuck’s discovery of it was. It had come as quite a shock to him when he had realised that his feelings for Mark went beyond the realms of friendship, bypassed mere physical attract, surpassed even lust, and had landed somewhere far too romantic for Donghyuck’s liking. The sheer thought of it was terrifying to him and it seemed to be growing worse. Much worse. For example, Donghyuck was now at a point in life where he found Mark Lee slurping on a spoonful of miso soup attractive. It just wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be like that. He was just eating soup. The way that Mark’s lips wrapped around a fucking spoon should not have prompted the heat curling somewhere deep inside Donghyuck, but alas, here he was.

“Shit, did I get seaweed stuck to my face again.”

Mark’s voice cut through Donghyuck’s thoughts, a sharp blade of reality amidst a flurry of daydreams. It was only then that he realised he’d been staring, quite intently, at Mark. Specifically his lips. Way to be subtle.

“Nah, I just zoned out for a moment,” Donghyuck lied, swallowing a spoonful of his own soup. “You’re good.”

And that was the thing – Mark was good. He was so good. He was the kind of good that attracted the attention of puppies and made babies smile and helped cure hangovers. He was the kind of good that was _too_ good. Too good for someone like Donghyuck. Too good for someone who was selfish, who never woke up before noon, who never washed his dishes straight after using them. Mark was good, and Donghyuck’s heart ached.

Things changed just before the summer in between first and second year. Not _the_ thing, not yet, but other things.

Yukhei and Jungwoo had essentially moved in, only ever going to their own flat to sleep or collect food. It had gotten to a point where the boys in the flats above didn’t even know anyone lived in that flat, what with Yukhei and Jungwoo’s other flatmates either being a social recluse, a drug dealer and a guy with a girlfriend that lived in the nicer accommodation, none of which were particularly sociable and/or present.

Jeno had somehow smuggled a kitten into their flat and had managed to hide it well enough during flat inspections for the five boys to now be parents to a little tabby called Lee (after either Jeno, Donghyuck or Mark depending on who was asked). At first, Jaemin in particular had been opposed to the newest addition to their flat (probably insulted by the lack of attention being paid to him), but one hour of having a sleeping Lee sprawled across his lap had convinced him that she was an angel sent from heaven. At times she seemed more like Jaemin’s cat than Jeno’s, much to the elder’s annoyance.

Renjun had managed to land a job at the local club despite the fact he looked too young to even get in, never mind work there as a bartender. One perk to this was the free drinks their group had managed to con their way into over the course of the past few months. Donghyuck had many a drunken night to thank those drinks for, some of which he regretted more than others.

Perhaps the most significant change was Mark Lee, or, more accurately: Mark Lee’s girlfriend. He had started dating a girl from one of the flats on the floor below, a pretty psychology student called Yerim, about a month after they came back from Christmas break. Donghyuck had been the first to arrive back – or so he had thought – only to be traumatised by the scene of the happy couple being a little too happy. Mark had immediately apologised, but Donghyuck had still struggled to look the elder in the eye for days afterwards. It took a flat dinner that had included Yukhei, Jungwoo and Yerim for Donghyuck to realise that he was being stupid and that Mark and his girlfriend were allowed to do whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted (as long as everyone else was given suitable notice, of course).

Lots of things had changed, including the friendship between the seven boys. Over the months it had only grown stronger and the group collectively decided that living with anyone else for their second year would not be an option. So, here they were, all of them huddled in the kitchen of Donghyuck’s flat.

“Okay, everyone drop your names into the bowl,” Renjun ordered, passing a plastic mixing bowl around the room until it was filled with slips of neon pink paper (Jaemin’s stationary).

“Alright,” Jaemin announced with a loud clap of his hands. “One pile will contain four names and the other three. That way it’s fair and no one is allowed to complain about their new flatmates. Got it?”

The rest of the group nodded simultaneously in agreement to the conditions. In all honesty, Donghyuck wasn’t particularly bothered about who he would end up living with, although it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t a little hopeful about Renjun remaining his flatmate for another year. Maybe Mark too, but that was neither here nor there.

It went like this: Jaemin sorted the paper into two piles before unfolding them one at a time to reveal the new flats.

Flat one, the four-bedroom flat, was going to consist of Jungwoo, Jeno, Yukhei and Jaemin. This left Renjun, Donghyuck and Mark in flat two, the three bedroom. Donghyuck caught Renjun’s eye, sending each other gleeful smiles. For the sake of politeness, Jaemin did ask if anyone wanted to change, but no one was opposed to their future living arrangements. The only thing Donghyuck was worried about was accidentally hearing anything Mark and Yerim got up to – seeing it had been bad enough. In the end, it didn’t really matter. Donghyuck liked Yerim well enough, and Mark was one of his best friends. He could hardly fault the boy for wanting to spend time with his _girlfriend_. The excited smile Mark sent his way was one that Donghyuck didn’t think he’d ever forget.

(Spoiler: he didn’t. He couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.)

The trays of sushi had long been abandoned, although Donghyuck did find himself nibbling on the sushi ginger every so often despite the bowl of popcorn sat between him and Mark. They were watching a strange Chinese arthouse movie that Renjun had recommended, but Donghyuck wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Like, at all. The film flashed between past and present and there wasn’t a whole lot of dialogue, and soon, Donghyuck found his attention drifting towards Mark rather than the television screen. The neon lights in the film reflected softly against Mark’s face, washing his features varying shades of pink and blue and red. It was pretty, Donghyuck would give it that.

Donghyuck couldn’t tell if it had actually started to pour outside, or if it was just the film, but the sound of rain hitting the glass of a window filled the otherwise silent room, barely drowned out by the quiet conversation between the two characters on screen.

Mark looked so invested in what was happening, his round eyes fixated on the screen with rapt attention. For once Donghyuck was thankful that Mark wasn’t paying any attention to him because it meant that he could look all he wanted. And look he did.

He could almost hear Renjun’s voice sarcastically commenting on his obvious heart eyes, but Donghyuck couldn’t help it, couldn’t control the way he looked at Mark. He had been looking this way at Mark for so long he wouldn’t know how to go back to the way things had been before.

Suddenly, in the peaceful confines of their living room, Mark’s eyes found Donghyuck’s. Donghyuck couldn’t breathe.

Things, _this_ , really started to tumble out of Donghyuck’s control just after the start of their second year at university. He had moved in with Renjun and Mark a few weeks ago and things were going well. They’d all lived together the year before, so not much had changed other than the amount of dishes and general mess (it had become clear that Jaemin and Jeno were the messy ones – good luck to Yukhei and Jungwoo). One thing Donghyuck had found strange however, was the lack of Yerim. Not that he had expected to see her all the time, but he _had_ expected to have seen her leaving Mark’s room or sitting in their living room at least once.

It didn’t take long for Donghyuck to find out exactly why. He arrived home after a late seminar, hungry, tired and desperate for a shower, only to find Mark lying on the sofa. This wasn’t the strange part – Mark fell asleep on the sofa more often than in his own bed. No, the strange part was that he wasn’t doing anything. He wasn’t watching the tv, or scrolling through his phone, or reading a book. He wasn’t even sleeping.

“Mark?” Donghyuck asked cautiously as he approached the elder boy. Mark blinked but didn’t say anything, staring blankly at a crack in the ceiling. “Mark, is everything okay?”

Mark sighed. It sounded sad. “Not really,” he croaked out, his voice sounding raw from crying.

Donghyuck slowly lowered himself onto the couch, being careful to avoid sitting on Mark’s feet. “Did something happen?”

Another sigh. “No. Kind of. Yes.”

“Sounds complicated,” Donghyuck wondered aloud. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I broke up with Yerim. Well, she broke up with me.”

Shit.

“Oh,” is what Donghyuck actually ended up saying. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Mark comforted, although his voice was crackly and flat. “I just… I don’t know why I feel like this. I knew it was coming. Things have been weird between us for weeks, but still…”

“Relationships are messy,” Donghyuck sighed. He didn’t know where he was going with this – he’d never been in a relationship. “Emotions are too. They’re not easy to control either, especially when it comes to things like love. Don’t put yourself down for feeling sad. Your girlfriend just broke up with you, you’re allowed to be upset.”

Mark blinked rapidly at the ceiling, but Donghyuck couldn’t miss the way the elder’s eyes watered, so he did the only thing he could think of. He lay down and slid himself along the couch until he was hovering over Mark. Up close, Donghyuck could see his red, puffy eyes and his chewed-up lips. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Mark look so heartbroken. It left Donghyuck heartbroken too.

As he held Mark close in a comforting embrace, stroking his hair gently while the elder cried into his neck, Donghyuck wondered why on earth, amidst all the sympathy, he felt the tiniest ounce of relief.

(This was when it started. _This_.)

This was bad. _This_ was very, very bad.

Mark had caught Donghyuck staring and he didn’t know what to do. The way that Mark was holding his gaze was torturous and Donghyuck couldn’t look away, no matter how badly he wanted to. Maybe what he wanted wasn’t enough. It never had been.

“Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck felt his breath hitch at the sound of Mark’s voice. Something about the way Mark said his name made him shiver imperceptibly, and suddenly he felt warm, like someone had set a fire inside him.

“Mark,” he breathed out almost unconsciously and he still couldn’t look away. This was very, very bad.

_This_ was close to how things had been _that_ time.

It was the summer between their second and third year at university and most of their group had chosen to stay in town, with the exceptions of Jungwoo who was away in Japan with his family and Renjun who was in China with Sicheng.

The remaining members of their group were sat in the beer garden of their local pub, soaking in the last of the warm evening air over pints of beer (Yukhei and Mark), fruity cocktails (Jeno and Donghyuck) and something that looked suspiciously like motor oil (Jaemin). Earlier that day, they had attempted to have a barbecue down by the banks of the river but had been unsuccessful when the coals didn’t light properly. They had ended up returning to the four-bedroom flat, purely because it was bigger, and finished grilling their food in the oven instead. It wasn’t quite the same as the charred meat Donghyuck loved, but the sentiment was there. Afterwards, Jeno had suggested that they visit the local pub, and here they were (not before Jaemin had spent an inordinate amount of time coaxing Lee into eating the last of their ‘barbecue’ meat).

They were several drinks in and the hot summer sun had almost completely set, most of the light coming from the fairy lights twisted around the parasol poles at each table. Donghyuck’s head buzzed with the warmth of the setting sun and the alcohol he had consumed. Yukhei was telling them all the story of the date he’d been on the other day, waxing poetic about the girl’s eyes, hair, face, everything. Donghyuck found himself staring at Mark as Yukhei spoke. Mark had nice eyes, Donghyuck supposed, as he noticed the way the fairy lights sparkled in his irises. He had nice hair too, the dark strands falling carelessly across his forehead, different from the neat way he had gelled it during their first year.

First year. It seemed so long ago. Gone was the stuttering wreck that had introduced himself as Mark Lee. The Mark Lee in front of Donghyuck now was much more like the Mark Lee of that horrible, hungover morning, confident and brazen yet still humble. Mark was laughing at something Yukhei had said and Donghyuck couldn’t control the smile that spread across his own face.

Something hit his ankle bone, drawing a pained whine out of Donghyuck that seemed to go mostly unnoticed. Mostly, being the keyword. Jaemin was staring rather intently at Donghyuck, his eyebrows raised questioningly. Donghyuck was barely surprised when, seconds later, Jaemin excused the both of them, claiming that they were going to the toilet.

Instead, Jaemin dragged Donghyuck around the side of the building before finally dropping Donghyuck’s arm.

“When are you going to tell him?” Jaemin asked accusingly, his voice serious but not particularly harsh. Donghyuck blanched. What?

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Jaemin was beginning to sound exasperated. “When are you going to tell him? When are you going to tell Mark?”

Donghyuck’s head was spinning, both from the alcohol and the thoughts in his head.

“Jaemin, I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Donghyuck groaned, childishly stomping his foot.

“Jesus Christ,” Jaemin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out?” Donghyuck practically whined, his alcohol addled brain failing to help things make sense.

“That your clearly in love with Mark!”

It was like someone had flipped a switch in Donghyuck’s brain. Suddenly he felt sober, more sober than he had ever felt in his life, like Jaemin had poured a bucket of freezing cold water over his head.

“Shit,” Donghyuck breathed.

It made sense now. All of it. Everything. It all made sense and Donghyuck wanted to scream or cry or both. Jaemin was eyeing him warily, evidently realising that he had unlocked something Donghyuck had unintentionally been keeping hidden.

“Fuck, Donghyuck, I’m sorry,” Jaemin apologised, immediately pulling Donghyuck into a hug as the older boy’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Donghyuck didn’t say anything, just letting himself cry, not caring as his tears dampened the collar of Jaemin’s shirt.

When they returned to their table a little while later and were asked why they had taken so long, Jaemin began to regale their friends with a story of meeting someone they knew. Donghyuck remained silent and sipped his drink. The sweetness of his cocktail suddenly tasted sour. Donghyuck didn’t want it anymore.

Donghyuck didn’t want it.

They were so close. Donghyuck could feel every breath Mark took, could smell the faint coconut of his body wash, could hear the thumping of his heart. It was too much and not enough all at the same time. Donghyuck’s legs were straddling Mark’s own, the film still playing in the background, completely forgotten as Mark’s arms brushed tentatively at Donghyuck’s waist.

“Mark, I-” Donghyuck whispered, their mouths as close as they could be without touching. His eyes were closed, he didn’t know what Mark was doing, what he was thinking and definitely not what he was feeling. He was scared that if he did open his eyes, the moment would shatter and fragment like a broken mirror. Donghyuck cut himself off when Mark’s hands squeezed his waist, making him gasp out loud.

“Donghyuck,” Mark breathed, his voice laced with something that sounded painfully similar to longing. “Donghyuck, look at me.”

So Donghyuck did. His eyes fluttered open, and he probably looked a little cross-eyed with how close they were, but he did. He looked at Mark, and Mark looked at him and within seconds they were kissing.

It wasn’t the best kiss Donghyuck had ever had; their teeth clashed a little and Mark nipped Donghyuck’s lip a little too hard, but it was still better than anything Donghyuck had ever imagined. All of those nights, dreaming about what it would be like to kiss Mark, to touch Mark, paled in comparison to _this_. _This_. _This_.

 _This_ was perfect.

One night, a night that neither Mark or Donghyuck would ever remember, they did kiss. They didn’t remember it, but Yerim did.

It was a few weeks before they had broken up and Mark had invited Yerim along for drinks with him and Donghyuck. Yerim was kind of in love with Mark, and she liked Donghyuck, so she had said yes. They had visited a bar first, a new trendy one that had opened up not too far from campus. The drinks were cheap but strong and soon enough, they were stumbling on their way to the club. They could feel the bass thumping inside as they queued to get in, the music near deafening by the time they had paid their entry and made their way to the bar. Renjun wasn’t working that night, so there were no free drinks to be seen, but that didn’t dissuade the trio, particularly Mark and Donghyuck from downing everything they could.

It was a strange sight to see, drunk Mark. Never, in the entire duration of their relationship, had Yerim seen Mark drunk, and as far as she knew he didn’t get drunk. He had told her he didn’t like the thought of not being in control of his decisions. She didn’t know what had changed his mind on this particular night, what had convinced him to drink more than she’d ever seen him drink, but she couldn’t find it in herself to stop him. He was having fun, laughing with Donghyuck as they downed shots, hanging over her as she drank some too. It made her happy, seeing him smile like that.

Soon enough, the three of them were bouncing around on the dancefloor, dancing poorly to whatever chart topper was pounding from the speakers, almost suffocating from the heavy scent of the fog machine. One of Mark’s hands was on her waist while the other was hooked around Donghyuck’s neck, forcing them to all jump together amidst the crowded dancefloor.

When it started to get too hot, Yerim left the two boys on the dancefloor in favour of the coolness of the toilets. There was a bit of a queue, but Yerim couldn’t have been away for longer than fifteen minutes. She had just about reached the edge of the dancefloor when she froze, shock atrophying every vessel, every artery, every cell.

Even through the artificial fog and the flashing neon lights, she could see him. She could see _them_. She could see the way that Mark was holding Donghyuck close, just as close as he would hold her. She could see the way that Donghyuck’s fingers had travelled to Mark’s hair, running them through the strands at the nape of his neck, just like she would do. She could see the way their mouths were pressed together, moving feverishly under the flashes of pink and blue. She didn’t know what to do other than run back to the bathroom, skipping the queue under the pretence of feeling sick, only for her to spend the next fifteen minutes in tears.

They left not long after that, Yerim pretending that she had indeed been sick and that she wanted to go home. Drunkenly, they all tumbled into the taxi, the boys oblivious to the way Yerim’s mascara had streaked down her face, oblivious to the fact that she had seen them.

She still shared Mark’s bed that night, but she had ignored him when he tried to talk to her with slurred words and jumbled phrases.

A few weeks later, she broke up with him. She wasn’t even angry at Mark anymore, she was just tired. Yerim never did tell Mark what she’d seen, but she did tell him this. She did tell him that she was tired of coming second.

Thinking back on it, thinking back on the way Mark had held Donghyuck on that dancefloor, the worst thing was that Mark hadn’t even tried to kiss her that night. Not once.

_This_. _This_ was what Donghyuck had been looking for in all of his failed romances. _This_ is what he had been hoping for every time he had been dragged into a drunken kiss by a stranger in nightclub.

The way Mark pulled him close, the way he licked into Donghyuck’s mouth, the way he groaned when Donghyuck lightly tugged his hair. There was something so new, yet so familiar about the way Mark kissed. Donghyuck didn’t ever want it to end.

Of course, all good things do.

They were torn apart by the door opening, followed by an ominous silence.

“It’s not exactly the welcome home I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”

Donghyuck and Mark both turned to face the doorway, cheeks burning as Renjun hovered awkwardly across the room. Looking down, Donghyuck realised that he was still on top of Mark and quickly worked to disentangle their limbs. Mark scratched the back of his head nervously as Renjun continued to stare at them.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” Renjun announced, making his way towards his bedroom door. “The inquisition will commence exactly one day from now.”

And with that, Renjun entered his room and slammed his door shut with a slam.

Donghyuck glanced at Mark, their terrified eyes catching before both of them stood up from the couch and all but ran to Donghyuck’s room – it was the furthest from Renjun’s, after all.

Donghyuck had told Renjun about all of _this_ a mere week before Mark returned home with the sushi.

It was mid-afternoon and the two boys were sat in the back corner of the on-campus café, meeting for a quick lunch in between lectures. The milk steamer screamed from behind the counter and jazzy piano music played in the background, but even above all the noise, all the chatter from fellow students, Renjun still managed to catch it.

“Well, I knew that,” he scoffed, taking a pointed sip of his coffee. Donghyuck whipped his head up from where he had been staring intently at a crumb on his plate.

“What?”

“Donghyuck, I’m your best friend,” Renjun explained exasperatedly. “You don’t need to tell me things for me to know. Also, I live with you. Do you really think I wouldn’t have noticed the way you look at Mark? It makes me want to vomit. You’re so disgustingly in love that it nauseates me.”

“Well it doesn’t matter,” Donghyuck laughed shortly (read: bitterly), returning his gaze to the rather interestingly shaped crumb. “It’s not as if he loves me back.”

Renjun was oddly silent. When Donghyuck looked at him again, he felt himself begin to shrivel up, Renjun’s glare as powerful as a Dementor’s Kiss.

“You are not being serious right now.” It wasn’t a question. Donghyuck wouldn’t know how to answer it if it was. “That boy is so in love with you that half the time I feel like I don’t exist in my own flat. The sexual tension between you is even getting to me. The other day, I thought that Jeno looked particularly kissable. Do you see what the two of you are doing to me? I am merely a shell of the man I used to be. A sad, lonely, horny shell. So fucking do something about it.”

Renjun would be proud. They had done something about it. They had done several things about it. They were planning on doing more things about it.

“Why didn’t this happen sooner?” Donghyuck asked breathlessly, nosing affectionately at the side of Mark’s sweaty neck.

“Because we’re both oblivious idiots?” Mark suggested with a laugh, wrapping an arm around Donghyuck and pulling him closer.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one that had a girlfriend for months!”

“To be fair, I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance with you,” Mark defended with a smile.

“Well, here you have it. Here’s your chance to have all of _this_.”

Mark told Donghyuck he loved him and Donghyuck said it back, drawing Mark in for another kiss.

 _This_. _This_. _This_ was it.


End file.
